


Dear Jurisprudence

by Likerealpeopledo



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Tenderness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-08-10 05:20:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20129995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Likerealpeopledo/pseuds/Likerealpeopledo
Summary: They’ve never talked about Ray this much in bed before. David doesn’t think he likes it.





	Dear Jurisprudence

“I think I want to go back to school,” Patrick breathes into the swoop of David’s collarbone. He’s currently draped over David’s torso like a favored throw blanket, completely sated after going what he had called “two for two” on satisfying orgasms. David assumes that this is positive, especially if Patrick’s inability to support his own head is any indication.

David is the first to admit that his brain to mouth (or in this case, ear) connection does not immediately come back online following certain mind-blowing activities, but he could swear he just heard Patrick mention something about school. They weren’t doing a role play before, but maybe Patrick’s looking to accomplish some kind of trifecta or hat job or whatever David has heard him shout in the vicinity of televised hockey games.

He doesn’t move, though, so David takes advantage of his pliant husband’s rare stillness. Softly running his fingers up and down Patrick’s smooth back muscles, he’s able to create waves of goosebumps in the wake of each brush of his fingertips. It makes him feel strangely powerful, witnessing yet another physical manifestation of the impact of his affection. “Hmm, sexy.”

Patrick doesn’t respond again right away, his breathing going sort of deep and slow, and David decides he must have just been having another post-coital, half-asleep gibberish spell.

The spells, as David affectionately calls them, started not long after he first told Patrick that he loved him. Something about that moment had unfurled something that had once been knotted in his then-boyfriend, and before David knew what was happening, Patrick was unleashing all kinds of formerly well-guarded secrets. First he’d disclosed an adolescent crush on an opposing team’s catcher; his last had been a meandering monologue lamenting that he isn’t somehow taller. David isn’t sure if there is anything more delightful or more endearing than Patrick Brewer’s brain going all gooey and liberating the bleary, underdeveloped confidences that he trusts David enough to keep, and he’d be lying if he said he doesn’t look forward to hearing them.

David fears he’s going to regret yanking Patrick out of his reverie and into reality, but he’s also supremely curious. He gently nudges Patrick by shimmying his chest a little, and Patrick, still reorienting himself to time and space, dutifully elaborates, “Maybe I should go to law school.”

Oh, law school. His head swims with visions of Studious Patrick. Suddenly he’s transported, watching as Patrick sits at an elegant teak desk, toiling in rolled up sleeves, pencil behind his ear, diligently outlining...torts for an important exam. Patrick, with a leather satchel slung across his chest, heading off to a study group. Patrick, coming home from a long day, smelling like coffee houses and law libraries and academia. Patrick, saying the word academia. Patrick, adorned with those sweet little red thimble-thingies, poring over an Ethics textbook at the kitchen table. Index cards. Fountain pens with ink wells. Ahh, dividers with indexing tabs so that he can find his notes more effectively. David’s heart races: Patrick, with the pencil between his teeth, researching and editing his thesis. Patrick biting…

”Ethics,” David blurts and Patrick, his coordination slowly building to that of a newborn foal, nuzzles his cheek more fully against David’s sternum.

“Huh?” he asks, dreamy. David shifts so he can almost see his husband’s face; Patrick’s light lashes are resting against his cheekbones. There remains a chance that this is still one of those adorably rambling fugue state conversations, but David decides to proceed anyway. Proceed, counselor, he thinks, and yes, that is a little bit more of his blood flowing back toward his groin, thanks.

Of course Patrick wants to go back to school. Someone with his brain and his competence can’t possibly want to spend a lifetime as a glorified stock boy and business manager. They’re going to be fully staffed soon and a franchise someday, and it makes logical sense for Patrick to get some sort of pragmatic advanced degree that keeps his skills competitive. For once, David is the one interested in logistics.

“Could we talk more about that? When you wake up?”

Patrick wiggles on his chest, plants a light kiss where his lips meet skin. “Not asleep.”

“Uh-huh,” David’s hand works its way over the knob of Patrick’s spine and scratches at the sensitive nape of his neck. “Yes, baby, you seem very conscious.”

“You just had me speaking in tongues, David, maybe I needed time to rest my eyes.” His voice is getting clearer, so he must be coming back into himself. “What would you like to know?”

David can’t help the little swell of satisfaction that bubbles up, even if Patrick is being mostly facetious. “I want you to tell me more about law school.”

“Oh.” Patrick pauses, then hauls himself up and over onto his own pillow, taking most of his warmth and all of his body weight with him.

David shivers as cool air permeates the space Patrick just vacated. Fleetingly, he worries that he’s just activated a Very Serious Conversation, but then realizes that Patrick may also have the same fear. He feels guilty about making it seem that way, so David pulls Patrick’s closer arm back over his elbow and cradles it, smooths his fingers over the soft skin and defined muscles, hoping that he’s communicating comfort and openness.

“I don’t know, David, it’s just something I’ve been thinking about a lot lately.” He picks at the sheet with his free hand and doesn’t quite meet David’s eyes. His jaw clenches and unclenches and David’s chest aches to think that any of Patrick’s hesitancy is due to Patrick worrying about David’s potential reaction. David loves his ideas, especially when they’re adjacent to business. Even Patrick’s creative suggestions seem to be coming along. Somewhat. “We’ll have this huge need for someone to guide us through the expansion and with the Human Resources side of things; it would just make sense to have someone on staff with extensive knowledge of the law.”

“And that person is you?” David asks. He hopes he sounds both receptive and carefully neutral, since Patrick is looking so skittish.

“Did you think it should be Ray?” Patrick questions, his voice a half step higher.

“Well, he does wear a lot of hats,” he shrugs, because he isn’t sure that Ray isn’t already a lawyer. “But I think it sounds like a great idea. For you. Not Ray,” David feels the need to clarify. They’ve never talked about Ray this much in bed before. He doesn’t think he likes it. “You should go to law school.”

“Really?” Patrick slides his hand so that their fingers entwine, and a cool sense of relief passes through David as Patrick exhales and presses more fully against his side, tangling their ankles.

David flirts, “So do you think you’ll get a gavel?”

“Excuse me?”

“A gavel. Will you get one?” David rubs Patrick’s arm suggestively.

Patrick raises an eyebrow in mild amusement. “What would I do with that?”

“Use it to object.”

“I don’t think that’s why anyone uses a gavel. And I wouldn’t be looking to become a judge, anyway. I think I’d just stick to business law. Probably.” Patrick ponders for a moment, his brows knit in concentration. He’s quiet, but David has no doubt that Patrick is gradually becoming more and more intoxicated with the possibilities.

David nods, feeling a sense of his own joy sparking in his chest. If his husband wants to spend the rest of his life immersing himself in subjects like intellectual property and organization theory, David will gladly go along with whatever he wants. He knows he will, because a few weeks ago, Patrick had been explaining federal incorporation over dinner, and David had almost enacted a full swoon, right there in their usual booth at the café. Twyla had even needed to come and move his soup.

He is drawn back to the present when Patrick says, “I mean, between the seminars and all the tax code I’ve been reading, I feel like I’m halfway there.”

“Hmm-mmm.” It’s difficult not to get excited when he can tell Patrick is getting excited, even if said excitement is generated by tax code. David can make his own excitement, so he allows Patrick time to expound on his latest tax-related epiphanies, while he swiftly catalogues the suiting options from the fall Tom Ford collection. “Definitely a fitted suit,” David interrupts, since he figures Patrick’s new attorney’s salary can support higher quality designer labels. Until then, David can make do with the fantasy. “I can probably find a sale online…”

A hand reaches up and stills his jaw. “Are you mentally dressing me right now?”

_Patrick’s broad shoulders, the clean lines of his open neck_ \--

“No. Okay, yes. But imagine how you’d look in a jacket with a beautiful floating canvas…” David trails off dreamily.

“I couldn’t if I wanted to.”

“I know you couldn’t,” David can’t resist responding. But if he grabs his phone like he wants to in order to scroll through and show Patrick examples, they’ll be here all night, so he wisely decides to switch tracks. “I’ll bookmark some for you to peruse later.”

“I look forward to it.”

“It doesn’t matter if you’re being insincere, because it’s happening regardless.”

“Yes, I know,” Patrick says, tempering his mild exasperation with an amused fondness.

“Fantastic. It’s a date.” David lifts Patrick’s exposed forearm to give it a kiss and a meaningful squeeze so he can return to imagining Law Student Patrick. He wonders if he’ll need to convince Patrick to start wearing more tartan scarves or if the colors would wash him out, and then dismisses that line of thinking to return to more academic accessories. “Ooh, should we buy you an attaché case?”

Patrick does David the favor of not looking at him as if he’s touched in the head. In fact, he just looks sort of touched. “So this is something that you’d actually be okay with, really?”

The answer to this is so easy that David’s almost embarrassed that Patrick would ask. “Of course. I just want you to be happy.”

“I am happy, David.” Patrick shifts so they’re nose to nose, and he’s a little out of focus. “You’re thinking about those collating thimbles again, aren’t you?”

“They turn the pages so efficiently,” David purrs and Patrick rolls his eyes. “Think of all the paper cuts you’ll avoid.”

David smirks with barely restrained glee as Patrick ignores his innocent jibe and goes on, “I mean, it’s not like anything would happen overnight. I’d have to prepare for the test, be accepted into a program,” Patrick counts off on his fingers by tapping them against David’s sensitive left nipple, and it’s both cruel and delightful, “Get financial aid in order--”

David interrupts him with a slow, searching kiss until Patrick makes a little strangled noise into his mouth and they draw apart. “Oh, do you want to go get your phone so you can start a list?”

The expression on Patrick’s face gives David the distinct impression that said list already exists, and it’s probably color-coded, but for now, he deploys a slow smile that softens his features further. “I think you know the answer to that, David.”

“I do.” David starts to pull Patrick back to his lips to help express exactly what he knows, when it hits him, and he stops. ”No.”

“No?”

David kisses the corner of Patrick’s mouth where it’s fallen thanks to David’s fumbled attempt at communicating his thoughts. “No, it’s that I really like this idea for you.” And he means it, without reservation. He’s sure that if Patrick wants this for himself, then Patrick should have it; Patrick doesn’t need to stutter-step through his life anymore. David isn’t a minefield, and their marriage isn’t one, either.

Something he’s really grown to appreciate since committing to Patrick is that he doesn’t have to tamp down any of his feelings anymore. They’re all safe to have. He wants Patrick to know, to understand, to feel that too. Patrick can go to law school, he can go to medical school, he can go to the moon if he wants to, and he can tell David about all of his dreams because David is sure. David is sure that Patrick is the only person on earth able to make federal incorporation feel as electrifying as his own physical touch. He is sure that Patrick is the only person alive able to wear collating thimbles without a hint of irony and still be someone that David wants to hold, and kiss, and love. Patrick is it.

Seemingly relieved, Patrick settles back into the crook of David’s neck, hair soft against the corner of David’s jaw. “Me too.”

“Were you worried?”

Patrick’s response reverberates against the column of David’s throat as he plants two kisses on David’s neck. “A little. Not anymore.”

“Good.” David’s fingers return as if magnetized to the knob of Patrick’s spine, their favorite resting place. “But I mean, I’m not totally unselfish here.”

“Yeah, I get it. It helps the store as much as it helps me, definitely.”

“It’s not just the store, hon.” His fingers slowly meander down to the middle of Patrick’s back, raising another trail of goosebumps. Magic. “It’s just...after the whole federal incorporation incident—“

A flash of recognition passes across Patrick’s face and he grins. “Oh, you did like that, didn’t you.”

“I think you know that I liked it. Twyla even knew how much I liked it,” David says, wavering between embarrassment and indignation and somehow landing on arousal--business as usual. “I cannot wait until you start talking lawyer to me full-time.”

“Really? That’s what this is about?” He huffs a laugh that David feels all the way to his toes. “Writ of habeas corpus,” Patrick intones, easing his way down the bed.

“Mmm, that sounds hot.”

“Statute of limitations.” Patrick pulls back the sheet where it’s been covering David’s waist and David forgets what words Patrick even used. Were there statues?

“Fuck.”

Patrick’s stubble scratches under David’s navel as he trails sloppy kisses down David’s torso. He nips the jut of David’s hipbone with just a hint of teeth. “Jurisprudence.” He draws out slowly.

“More.” David groans, reaching for the top of Patrick’s sex-mussed hair as if to guide him further down, even though it’s fairly clear that Patrick already has an intended path to his destination. Patrick’s so hot and sweet but David wants more, faster. And maybe a little dirtier. He growls from somewhere deep in his throat and Patrick gets the message, redoubling his efforts by using his hot mouth to lick, bite, and suck the same sensitive spot on David’s inner thigh.

“Quid.” Patrick lightly kisses the thin skin he’s just marked. “Pro.” His tongue flutters toward his perineum, and David’s entire body trembles. “Quo.”

If either David or Patrick shouts any solemn affirmations in the throes of what turns into a very productive Round Three, that information will remain in the sanctity of their marital bed.

**Author's Note:**

> Beta by @cinnaluminum and encouragement by @simplytheschittiest
> 
> Creativelapses on Tumblr!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] Dear Jurisprudence](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24365716) by [Amanita_Fierce](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amanita_Fierce/pseuds/Amanita_Fierce)


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